Walking with Fire
by stopwatch-plz
Summary: It's post No Rest for the Wicked, and Sam's alone - but he's not taking his current situation well. Making a decision that will change him, and everyone around him, he starts on a path where there's not turning back. Part 1/Lazarus 'verse


Title: Walking with Fire

Rating: R  
Word count:3, 800  
Warnings: Wincest; Angst;  
Summary: A re-working of my previous fic. Much longer and more fucked-up \o/

...

Time had no meaning any more.

He hunted, shot, carved, killed, destroyed and nothing mattered. Nothing touched Sam's heart since the day Dean had gone.

Bobby' had taken him in for a while, those first few weeks afterwards being the most exhausting in his life. Then slowly, surely, he started waking up, started getting that itching, burning feeling in him, like his blood was on fire and the only way to get release was to crash-and-burn.

So he was back hunting. Bobby had offered to go with him, but Sam just shook his head. He hunted with Dean, and now Dean wasn't there… he hunted alone. He still talked out loud to him, could feel Dean with him on the hunts, could swear that sometimes he heard Dean calling his name on the hot, dry wind that ran through him as he slashed and burned his way through the world.

The more he hunted, the more he needed it. The more he needed it, the more he lost himself. After coming back to Bobby's one night, drunk, bitter and trying to pick a fight, the old hunter decided enough was enough..

i"I'll go to the ends of the earth to help you, Sam, but if you ain't gonna help yourself, then I'm done!"/i

Sam had just glared at him, eyes gleaming halfway to madness, and turned without a sound. Firing up the Impala he pulled away, not looking back; only forwards.

A hundred different towns; a hundred nameless motels. Sam still booked a twin, couldn't ask for a single. He'd tried it once and still wore the scars. He woke every morning to feel Dean's presence, just out of sight, then reality hit and the vision disappeared on a breath of wind.

He'd started a journal, just like Dad, noting down anything and everything he thought worthy of trapping on paper. In the beginning, he wrote down everything; names, places, people, demons, rituals, like a roll call of the Underworld. But slowly, after time, it became less a record and more a plan of action. Without realising it, Sam had gone from recording what had happened to planning what will. An agenda to beat Hell.

When exactly it was when Sam crossed that line, he wasn't sure. Suddenly, things weren't so grey anymore, but black-and-white. Good things must be saved, bad things must be punished. The Hell-spawn Messiah.

So when a drug dealer got caught in the crossfire during a job in a disused warehouse, Sam wasn't too bothered. When he caught a rapist in the act and chased him, cornering him in a building he'd just set on fire, he didn't blink as the night around him echoed with the man's final cries.

…

He'd tracked down a nest of vampires to Ohio – a group of real nasty ones that had left a trail of blood and screams across the country, with an M.O that targeted young girls in nightclubs. Sam had had to deal with finding the broken, lifeless bodies, the wide-staring eyes whose lights had gone out too long ago for even Sam to save. Stalking them across country, he'd finally caught up with them and he was preparing for battle.

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long. The nest had gotten wind of his arrival and lay on a welcome party in a back alleyway behind a disused factory. There were three of them, tall, well-built men with dark eyes and shining fangs, and they circled him like sharks around a hapless swimmer.

"Sam Winchester, a pleasure, to be sure!" the leader hissed out, a man with long, dark hair and a wicked grin, as he walked low circles around him. Sam just glared back in return, dark eyes glinting through his hair.

"Seems we got ourselves a plaything!" sneered another, a blond this time, cut short, with bright blue eyes.

Sam spun round when he heard the other voice, balancing like a cat, on his toes, about to jump. He looked back at the leader of the group, looked up then back down to the vampire, straight into his eyes and gave a grin – a sly, knowing grin that just said:

iBring it on/i

The head vampire caught a look in Sam's eyes, a dark, feral, wanting look, and for the first time he hesitated, caught like a rabbit in the headlights.

Sam took that as the signal to start the dance and, with a low laugh, he leapt forwards, slashing at the vampire with his silver blade, honed to perfection that it practically whistled through the air. Somehow, Sam could feel where the other bodies were around him, could sense their movements before they happened, and so when the pretty blond rushed him from behind, he was ready. He went to strike out, to slash and stab and render but instead a burning fire came from nowhere – no, came from iwithin him/i - and flowed, hot and sweet and barbed, and arced from him to the vampire behind.

With a rush, his attacker was thrown backwards, sailing through the air, arms and legs flailing. He soared over a row of trashcans and landed with a sickening crunch; his limbs at unnatural angles, blood flowing from his mouth.

The dark-haired vampire stopped in his tracks and blinked, unable to process what he'd just seen. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure iwhat/i he'd just seen, but he sure as hell wasn't going to wait around to find out. With a sharp whistle, he signalled to his remaining friend who turned tail and they ran as fast as they could, away from their nest, away from the town.

But before they'd run, they turned one last time and saw an image that would stay in their minds forever; of the hunter, standing there, staring at them with burning eyes.

She appeared one night, stepping into his path as he walked back from a particularly messy exorcism, blood trailing down his left cheek and dripping off his chin. He looked at her, eyes glinting cold through the hair hanging over his eyes, plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood. They stared at each other and as he watched the girl's eyes flash coal-black, he reached round for the knife. But she was too quick.

"No time, Sam" and she reached out and grabbed his wrists, pulling him towards her. Suddenly, everything went black, and he heard her say in his ear:

i_"_You're ready now."/i

...

Sam's vision cleared and he looked around. He was in a room, small and dark and iclose/i. High windows to the left of him looked like they'd been positioned there to let in sunlight, but the only thing that permeated the glass now was gloom and oppression.

"So kind of you to make it"

Sam spun round and couldn't believe what he saw.

"You!" he spat the word out, breathing hard, crouched long and low with his knife still in his hand.

"Well, that's a good welcome for all the work I've done," and Bela Talbot walked out from the corner of the room where she had been standing. "It's taken a lot of work to get you here, Sam, you could at least be a little thankful."

"From where I'm standing you've done nothing to be thanked for, bitch" and Sam played the knife from hand to hand, never even glancing down as it jumped from palm to palm.

Bela rolled her eyes. "For god's sake Sam, do you have any idea what's going on? Where you are? What you have to do?"

Sam looked at her warily, the blade he'd been toying with sitting dormant in his hand.

"Better. Now, we don't have much time. I can get you to Dean but we have to hurry" Bela turned to go.

"Wait!" Sam said, and the door leading out the room slammed shut, untouched. Bela turned round with surprise and stepped back in shock when she saw Sam's eyes. Instead of their usual hazel-green, his eyes were yellow-gold fire. Bela took a deep breath and squared up, looking straight at Sam.

"Listen, Sam, I know… I know what's been going on, it's the only way, you know, the only way you can save him, and us… it's the only way we can do it!" she spoke, words rushing into one another as she couldn't tear her eyes away from the dancing flames in his eyes, feeling herself shrink under his gaze.

"Why should I believe you?" Sam's voice came to her, and it was as though he didn't speak at her, but iinto/i her, his words coming from inside her and echoing in her head. She stumbled backwards, caught off-guard at the strange sensation and broke his gaze.

"Look, I can't make you believe me, but look – I have this" and she pulled something from her waistband and showed it to Sam.

Ruby's blade.

"How did you get this?" he hissed, quietly.

Bela shook her head "No time, Sam, no time!" The desperate note in her voice intrigued Sam, who paused for a moment then nodded.

"Fine" and his arm shot out from his side, fingers extended and the door burst apart with an almighty crash. Bela looked at Sam, and he saw the fear in her eyes and he laughed; a low, throaty sound. "Ladies first" and he motioned to the doorway.

Bela looked at him and hesitated. Sam laughed.

"Don't want me at your back, huh? Don't blame you. But you don't have any choice, do you?" and he smiled, though it didn't touch his eyes which were, thankfully, back to their normal state.

Bela swallowed and nodded. "This way," and she walked through the doors, shoulders braced and back straight, as though preparing herself for an attack. Sam laughed quietly to himself.

As if she could defend herself from him.

…

Bela led Sam through a dark labyrinth of tunnels, damp and oppressive and evil and ihome/i… Sam shook his head, stopping for a second as a shot of isomething/i ran through him. For a moment, he was confused and he looked around, panicking, then he smiled and his eyes flashed yellow-heat again. It was all going to be fine. He was here to rescue Dean, this was his mission, this was his job. This was his purpose.

"Here." Bela stopped at a door, one that Sam would never have noticed had she not pointed it out. "This will lead you to Dean. I can't come any further, if they notice I'm gone…" she visibly shuddered. "Anyway, go through here, you'll find him." She looked up at him, a curious look on her face. Sam tilted his head sideways and looked at her.

She laughed, softly, no humour in the sound. "I was going to say for you to be careful, but I don't think I need to" and with that, she was gone, almost on a breath of air, and Sam found himself alone, in the dark tunnel, confining yet safe.

He blinked, and his eyes took on the fire again. With a moments pause he stepped forwards, and pushed open the door in front of him.

Initially, he thought the room was dark, pitch black, void… then he blinked and suddenly he realised that he could see – he could see not only what was, but what had been, and what was to be. He paused, breathing deeply, listening intently to the sounds around him, far off voices calling, asking, pleading. Amongst them all, amongst all the sounds, he found it.

He found Dean.

Without a second's hesitation, Sam set off - running lightly, body lean and lithe, perfectly tuned. He ran along corridors, up stairs, through doors, following Dean's cries like a hound on a scent. Somewhere along the way his eyes turned, burning like the sun, like the sun that would never reach this place, only night. Only ever night, where 4am knows all your secrets.

Finally, he pulled to a stop outside a door and stood, motionless, listening, seeing, smelling. Everything on the other side was screaming at him, screaming iDean/i; screaming ifamily/i. With a deep breath he steadied himself and without a glance backwards he opened the door.

…

"iDean?/i" Sam pushed the question out with his mind, like a boat detached from it's moorings. He watched it sail away.

For a moment there was nothing, a silence so thick and heavy Sam could choke on it, and he began to panic.

"iSammy?/i" A whispered voice came back, sharp and dry and broken, and Sam turned to the sound.

Suddenly his surroundings shifted, and he was in a smaller room, a cell, no windows or light, and he saw shadows in the corner. They moved.

"Dean?" Sam walked over to the figure in the corner, curled up in a ball. He reached down and touched his brother.

Dean jerked back, as though stung or burned, and uncoiled from himself. He looked up, eyes wide and staring, unfocused - shaking, trembling. "Sammy? That you?" his voice cracked when he looked into Sam's eyes, looked into the fire.

"Dean, I came for you. I came to find you. We're here" Sam looked at his brother and smiled, and Dean felt himself slip.

"Came for me? Sam, what's going on? You…" Dean's voice was panicked and raised a few tones.

Sam bent down and reached for Dean "Shh! It's ok. It'll all be ok." Sam stroked his hair and bent down to kiss his brother's forehead. Dean let out a soft sigh. "Come on." He looped an arm around Dean's shoulder and pulled him upright, turning him round so that they faced each other.

With a smile, Sam looked at Dean, with his golden eyes, and said:

"We've got work to do, Dean."

…

Sam blinked, and they moved to another room; larger, less oppressive. He half-dragged his brother over to a seat in the corner and placed him down. Dean's head fell slightly forwards, chin resting almost to his chest before jerking upright.

"Dean, come on, stay with me…" he moved to the front and sat on Dean's lap, legs straddling him. Sam took his brother's face in both hands and angled his head up so their eyes connected.

"I'm here, Dean. I'm here. I'm here for you to save you. We've done it" and Sam bent down to place a tender kiss on his forehead.

Dean looked at Sam and blinked, and for the first time gained some focus and clarity.

"Sam… Sam, what's going on? What… what's happened to you?" he whispered, as he gazed into the fire that seemed to burn within Sam's soul itself.

"Shh," Sam placed a finger over Dean's lips. "No time for this now. We'll have company soon…" and with that he cocked his head sideways, listening.

A slow grin spread across his face, sinister and beautiful at once.

"They come." And with that he slid off Dean's lap and reached behind his back. "You'll need this." He tossed the knife to Dean, whose instinctive reflexes engaged as he caught it by the handle.

"What the…?" Dean looked confused as he looked at the blade – Ruby's blade – then back to Sam, who still had that eerie smile on his face.

"You didn't think I'd run out of here without making those bastards pay for what they did to you, did you? I wouldn't let them go without a fight, wouldn't let them go without tasting the flavour of revenge, of ijustice/i…" and Sam's eyes burned brighter.

His brother shrunk back a little.

"Ruby was right, Dean… All I needed was to embrace it… to let it in, to let it all in to exist with me… I can do things I'd never dreamed of before…." He said the last with an almost reverential whisper.

"And I did it all for you Dean, I did it to save you. Because we belong together."

Dean sat looking at Sam for a second, as though weighing up different options. Then he smiled back at him, almost as cold and chilling as Sam's, as he spoke:

"Let's get this party started."

…

They didn't have time to think when the first hell-beasts slammed through the door.

Wood splinters flew in all directions under the pressure of the demons charging through the doorway. There must have been a dozen of them, demons in human-form, eyes shining like oil slicks, grinning madly.

i"It's time…"/i said one.

i"Time for us…"/i another echoed, and they advanced on the Winchester boys.

Sam and Dean were back-to-back in the middle of the room, Dean with the blade ready and waiting, Sam just crouching there, eyes burning with hatred and anger and irevenge/i. He'd managed to get Dean back, and he'd take out as many sons-of-bitches as he could.

Walking in a slow circle with Dean at his back, he looked at the demon in front of him and smiled.

The first one leapt at him, but Sam was prepared. Without hesitation, he drew the fire from within him and flung it out, harsh and jagged, and it hit the demon right in the chest. With a cry, he flew backwards, slamming into the wall with a sickening thud of snapping limbs, and he fell to the floor.

Sam took his eyes from the broken form and looked at the next figure, who smiled back at him. He stretched his neck, bounced on his feet and was prepared for the attack. When the demon rushed him, Sam reached out and caught his head in his hands. Before his attacker had time to realise it, Sam had twisted his hands, snapping its neck with a loud pop

Taking another angle, the next demon darted round Sam and went for Dean. But Dean was ready with the blade, and as soon as the bastard got close enough, he swiped upwards with it, ripping the hellspawn from stomach to chest, and plunged the blade into its' heart as a final measure, blood arcing from the wound to splatter over Dean's face. With a short scream, the demon died, shocks running through its body as it crumpled to the ground. Dean looked down in satisfaction and wiped the back of his hand across his face, smearing the blood across it.

The demons may have wanted revenge, but for the most of them, they weren't suicidal. Seeing the damaged caused in such few minutes, they grouped together, whispering and chattering and calling, and in an instant, they vanished.

Dean was breathing hard, the exertion after so long being inactive had taken its' toll on him. Sam spun round and noticed his brother's weakness, and ran to him, wrapping his arms around him.

"It's ok… it'll all be ok…" Sam murmured into Dean's ear, stroking the hair on the back of his neck that was soft and warm. Sam pulled back and looked at his brother, wiping the smears of blood off of his cheek.

Dean looked up, focused for a second, and then went fuzzy again as his head fell onto Sam's shoulder.

"Come on, Dean, we're getting out of here…" and Sam pulled Dean close to him, held him close as he closed his eyes and everything ishifted…/i

…

When Dean came round it was three days later.

"Aaaaah!" Dean screamed. "What the… Where the…? Sammy!" he shouted as his eyes focused to take in the scene.

They were in a motel room, and it was evening. The light from the streetlamps shining through a chink in the curtains provided the only light. Sam was sitting, cross-legged, on the end of his bed, looking at him intently, head cocked to one side.

Dean blinked a few times to enable him to see properly and to take in his surroundings. Sam took the opportunity to uncurl from his position and slide forwards, so that he lay alongside his brother, and rested a hand across his chest, fingertips resting on bare skin, covering his tattoo.

"Welcome back," Sam murmured, as he buried his face into Dean's neck, warm and soft.

"Dude…" Dean started, as he rolled over onto his side and stared into Sam's eyes. He was relieved to see that they were normal, green-hazel sparkling at him. "What the… what the ihell /i happened there?"

"Bad choice of words," and Sam gave a low chuckle that sent shivers down Dean's spine. He looked at his brother.

"No, dude, seriously. What happened?" Dean tried to sit up but had no strength, falling back onto the bed with a soft ithud/i.

"I told you. Ruby told the truth. I could save you…. Did save you" his voice was soft, and he smiled down at his brother.

"Umm, ok… Got that bit. What about the rest?" Dean asked, cautiously. He wasn't entirely sure where he was, what was going on, or even if that was actually Sam in front of him. Damn, he wasn't even sure this was real and not some fucked-up mind projection they'd sent him whilst still being captive down there. He shuddered at the thought and curled up into a ball, pulling the bed sheets around him.

Sam smiled and reached out to stroke Dean's hair. "As I said, Ruby was right. All I had to do was accept it. Accept who I am…" and Sam blinked and, suddenly, the fire was back in his eyes, shining golden-bright, so intense that Dean had to put an arm over his face.

"What the…?" Dean started.

Sam blinked again and his eyes were back to normal. "Shh… it's ok, it's all ok… We're going to be fine, even better. We're back together, that's all that matters…" he trailed off as he reached over to pull Dean close.

Dean looked at his younger brother, the boy he'd – quite literally – gone to Hell and back for, and shivered into the embrace.


End file.
